Of course, Mrs Ellington
by aliceann
Summary: Neal is poisoned and June takes care of him.
1. Chapter 1

**Of Course, Mrs. Ellington**

_**Tell all the Truth but tell it slant**_

_**Success in Circuit lies**_

_**Too bright for our infirm Delight**_

_**The Truth's superb surprise**_

_**As Lightning to the Children eased**_

_**With explanation kind**_

_**The truth must dazzle gradually**_

_**Or every man be blind**_

_**Emily Dickinson**_

The sky was clear, a translucent blue, tranquil in its anticipation of the coming October rains. The sun was lazily inching its way across the horizon, soon to be bright as the yellow roses cradled in her lap. Still damp from her garden, the smell of fresh earth and the sweetly scented buds stirred her memory. She loved this time of day, before the world was fully awake.

"Good morning, Neal."

"Morning, June. What's gotten you up so early?" he moved toward his friend seated at the patio table.

"Byron used to come out here to watch the sun come up. I think this was his favorite place."

"Been thinking of him?" He knew she had. In October it would be seven years since Byron died.

"Not a day goes by I don't think of him. But actually, it's you that's been on my mind. Come sit with me."

At that moment, Marguerite one of June's staffers approached with a tray filled with breakfast foods and a steaming pot of coffee.

"June, you shouldn't have. I'm afraid I don't have much of an appetite."

"I know, she looked at his thinning frame. You need to eat."

"Anything else, Mrs. Ellington?"

"Yes, Marguerite. Would you be so kind to bring me a vase for these?"

"Of course, Mrs. Ellington."

"I meant to tell you how spectacular the rose garden is," Neal poured a cup of coffee for her.

"Byron and I planted it the year he took sick. Roses were always his favorites, yellow roses especially. He said they reminded him of sunshine. Not having the sun to shine on him was one of the hardest parts of prison life he told me once, feeling separated from the earth, it's smells, the feel of damp grass under his feet after the rain."

She saw a flicker of recognition cross Neal's face, a shared memory of suffocating concrete and wire caged straight jackets.

"I'm sorry about your father, Neal."

"I am too," he ran his fingers lightly over the rim of his coffee cup and stared mournfully at the plate of fruit in front of him.

"Have you learned any more about what happened to him?"

"Peter called last night. He thinks we might have gotten a break in the case. Organized crime may be willing to do a deal with the Bureau. Apparently they have someone undercover in the Flynn organization, tapes which might lead to those responsible in the FBI. But there are Rico hurdles."

"How's Peter doing?"

"Working non stop. If anyone can find them. He'll find them. I haven't made it easy for him. He doesn't want me involved. He's worried I'm not able to think clearly. Afraid I'll do something stupid."

"You do know he has your best interest at heart?"

"I do. I would be dead if it weren't for Peter. He saved my life that night. But I can't sit this out, not now. Finding who did this...it means everything to me."

He seemed so raw. Exhausted. Dark circles stood out below those beautiful blue eyes. Her heart ached for him.

"I want to be that guy, you know... steady, truthful... normal," his shoulders rolled forward. But normal isn't what I feel. What if I lose myself one day and start to hurt people? Maybe there's something wrong deep down inside me, something broken like my father."

"And you're afraid Peter can't accept that, can't accept you."

"He so much wants me to be a better man. He's put his life... his job on the line convinced I can be. I am so tired, June. Am I ungrateful? I just …I... I need someone not to want anything from me right now, not to expect me to be anything more than I am... just for a while." He let go of the tears filling his eyes.

"I know sweetheart." She laid her hand on his. He prayed she wouldn't move it.

"You haven't slept in days, you need to rest."

"Where? he choked out.

She saw him through old eyes and felt old memories of another morning and another young man who sat across from her, lost and searching. It was the day she learned to trust.

**Wcwcwwc**

"Neal, are you okay? Is anything wrong?" Peter asked anxiously.

"No. I'm good."

"I thought we agreed you were going to take some time off. I promise you. I won't keep anything from you. The minute I learn anything, anything at all. I will call you."

"I can't sit home, Peter. Please. Let me help. You know I can."

Peter looked out across the Manhattan skyline. Lines were going to be crossed, nothing would be the same again. A fire raged through him. There were hard things he needed to do, and truth be told there was no one he would rather have with him than Neal Caffrey.

"Okay, he ran his hand through his hair. Okay. But we have to work this together, no daylight between us."

"Thank you, Peter."

"Diana's pulling together all the intelligence. The Organized Crime team should be here shortly. We"ll meet in the conference room. I'll have Jones bring over all the files we have and you can get up to speed."

"You won't regret this."

But he already did. The last 48 hours had been hell. A combination of adrenaline and stale coffee was the only thing keeping him upright. He knew it was worse for Neal. And there was no way he could protect him from what was going to come out in this meeting. His chest tightened as he watched his partner, his friend take the stairs to the bullpen.

"Caffrey, how you feeling" Jones asked with an uncharacteristic tone of sympathy in his

voice.

"I've been better. Peter said you had the updated files."

"Yeah. I'll have Amy our temp bring them down to you. Hey, if you need anything?"

"Thanks Jones. What do we know?"

"Organized crime was investigating the acquisition of a financial company with known ties to crime families. They had a wiretap and undercover operative in place, when an SEC filling revealed a connection to a minor player in the Flynn organization."

"The family my father was involved with."

"Right. Turns out the Flynn organization is just the tip of the iceberg. They followed the trail all the way to OPR."

"The Office of Professional Responsibility. Fowler."

"I'm sorry Neal. Your father's involvement reached all the way to the top of the FBI. Peter's making the case that we be brought into the loop. Look man, I got to get this up there."

"Right, go."

There it was. Suddenly he felt the air go out of the room. He needed to focus now. He promised Peter.

"Hi Neal, agent Jones asked me to bring these."

"Yeah Amy. Let me help you with that." he took the files from the cart.

"Thanks .You look like you could use one of these, she placed a cup of coffee in his hands. Someone brought these from the new siphon coffee bar up the street. I snagged this one for you. It was the last one."

The hot coffee felt good against the growing dryness in his throat. It was all he could do to keep focused on the files in front of him, as the drama played out in the conference room feet away from him. Peter promised he would let him know as soon as he had something. He wasn't sure if it was the coffee he had earlier or just the anxiety of not knowing, but he was increasingly queasy. He felt ill. Maybe he needed to take a walk, get some air.

Light headed, he leaned against his desk and opened the collar of his shirt. His hands trembled lightly as he fumbled with his tie. He thought of his mother for some strange reason, silent and sad. _Mom is_ _this okay_, he would ask as he dressed himself for school. Most days she was trapped in herself, unaware, unresponsive. He tried to shake off the unwanted nostalgia. He thought better of leaving as his head began to spin.

"Caffrey, you okay?" Diana was in his personal space.

"Yeah, it's just a little hot in here."

"Not as hot as it is in there, she nodded toward the conference room. I wouldn't want to be organized crime. Peter's like a man on fire."

The first drop of sweat was cold against his spine. He hated it might stain his shirt. It belonged to Byron. Somewhere nested in his body was the beginning of a fever. He tried to reassure Diana, knowing full well she was never taken in by his cons. He continued to work under her suspicious gaze and through the mountain of files Amy piled on his desk, while training an eye on the men in the conference room.

It hit him in the gut first, sharp and painful. He stood, closed his eyes but he couldn't calm himself. Everything was spinning and murmuring around him. Something had invaded within. The dependable body that functioned normally was flying apart from inside. He clenched his fist against the desperate pain and fell.

"Neal!"Her voice was urgent. She was touching his face.

"Caffrey! Man, C'mon breathe." Jones had joined her.

They wanted him to do something, concentrate on something. Something in the past, something in the future, something in the light maybe in the dark. He was confused. Why wouldn't they tell him. How can you fix something, if you don't know where it's broken. His hands felt cold. The pain in his stomach was unbearable, he was trying to control it.

"Jones, try to keep him still. Where's EMS?" she was shouting to the agents pouring into the space.

"Diana. What happened to him?" Peter was demanding answers no one could give him. Searching for some explanation in the midst of the chaos enveloping him, he looked into the eyes of the only one who could tell him.

"Neal, buddy talk to me."

He wanted to speak, but nothing would come out. The gravity of his situation seemed dulled. It must be deep exhaustion. The doctors said his mother suffered from it too. He found her on the bathroom floor once. Ellen said to call her if it happened again and she would come take care of it. _Mom, I'm not supposed to call unless it's an emergency._ The weight of his body was overwhelming. He wondered if he would ever get up from this floor. He needed Ellen.

"Neal, help is coming. You're going to be okay. You're okay." Peter spoke with a depth of feeling that seemed to rise up from the core of his being.

_I'm so much better _he thought. Someone was whispering in his ear you're okay, nothing to worry about. _Be a good boy Neal and let mommy rest. _He was good at faking understanding, practiced in being all right, fine, okay. In the beginning he cried a lot. It didn't hurt as much now.

"Boss, the paramedics are here."

"Peter, let them do their work," Hughes squeezed his shoulder pulling him away.

His pure blue eyes were open and his chest rose slowly in shallow breaths. Everyone looked on, focused on each breath and waited. They stood watch for him, a silent vigil. The medics worked in unison like a precision instrument, completely focused on the body under their hands, the body that lay completely still now.

Amy glanced at the origami flower on her desk and remembered the day he'd given it to her. His hand brushed against hers and she blushed. Everyone warned her, Neal Caffrey was a unredemptive flirt and a con man. The combination definitely meant trouble, but he was so nice. She was just a temp, no one noticed her. But he always found a way to make her feel special. She didn't care if his smiles were reflex . She trusted him whether he deserved it or not. They were cutting away his shirt and favorite tie. She leaned against the wall and her sob broke through the silence.

"Clear!"

He heard far off the sound of someone crying. He had stopped feeling any pain when the sudden jolt to his chest shocked weary synapses and he remembered he was good, fine, okay.

"We have a pulse, we got him back."

**To be continued, thanks.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Of Course, Mrs. Ellington**

**Chapter 1**

**Some thirty years earlier**

Neal had been coughing the last few days. Maggie promised she would take him to the doctor. Ellen would have done it herself, but she had a meeting with the Marshals that couldn't wait. When she called to check, his mother said the doctor put him on antibiotics and cool baths for a mild fever he developed. The fever worried her. She said she would be home tonight.

She sat next to Neal's bed. He was curled into a ball, his breathing way too quick, too shallow. She lifted him to get a better look, his clothes were damp. He was shivering.

"Maggie wake up! Maggie, did you give Neal his medicine?"

Her face was creased with sleep. She looked as if she had no idea where she was, eyes dazed and blinking. A bottle of prescription pain killers and Lord knows what else was overturned on the nightstand.

"What time is it?" she pushed her hair back from her face.

"It's five."

"He was sleeping and I didn't want to wake him. I lost track of the time."

"What does that mean Maggie? Did you give any of it?"

"I meant to. I'm sorry. In a voice flooded with narcotics she choked out, James said everything was going to be all right, but it's not. He didn't love us. Did he Ellen?"

"God! Maggie. You can't keep doing this. The fury that had been mounting in her, eased looking at the ruin in her face. Listen, get dressed and meet us. I'm going to take Neal to the hospital."

She hurried down the hallway to the bathroom, she knew Maggie kept the thermometer there. Neal had rolled back into an even tighter ball.

"Hey sweetie. How are you feeling?"

"My head feels funny. Like there bugs in it. Where's mommy?" She managed to let him slip the thermometer under his tongue, it was taking way too long to beep. 104 degrees. Her heart clenched. She picked up the little boy, holding his head against her shoulder.

"Are we going to your house?" he asked her.

"No honey, we are going to the hospital."

"I don't wanna go," he whimpered.

"Shh, it's okay baby."

She can feel the heat from his small body through her jacket. He's limp by the time she gets him inside the car. Ordinarily a safe driver, she screamed out of the driveway. Years of police training, like muscle memory held her shaking hands to the wheel as she raced to the hospital. She abandoned the car, still running at the ER entrance and ran with her precious charge straight to the desk.

Handing him over to strangers was harder than she ever imagined. She followed behind the gurney as far as they would let her. Neal was crying for her.

"Can't I stay with him? she begged. He'll calm down if he knows I'm there."

"I'm sorry, the nurse said. You'll have to wait outside."

A woman standing in the waiting room approached and offered her a seat. She said it would be okay the doctors there were really good. They were taking care of her husband. She was grateful for the momentary distraction.

She spotted a payphone when she came in. Where the hell was Maggie? Her purse was open on her lap, she searched for change. The coins kept slipping through her fingers, as she struggled for control. The door opened and a doctor approached her. She stood on rubbery legs.

"Is it bad?"

"Your little boy is very sick. We are trying to get his fever down. He had a seizure."

Her purse fell to the floor.

"We need to get him started as quickly as possible on a new course of antibiotics. My nurse is going to have you sign the consent forms."

"I'm not his mother."

"Where is his mother? His body can't fight this much longer. If he has another seizure...look it, we need this consent."

"Miss, Miss, are you Okay? Did you hear me?" the doctor was looking at her anxiously. She did. In a moment of panic, her mind couldn't comprehend losing this child who felt like her own.

She found a bank of phones down the hall.

"Hello?"

The voice coming back to her sounded under water. It couldn't be.

"Maggie?" Her heart sank. She was still at home.

"Maggie, listen to me. Neal is very sick. The doctors are working on him now, but they need you to sign the consent forms. You need to get here now. I'm sending a cab for you."

"Okay. I'll be there."

"Get dressed. Do it now!" she felt sick to her stomach.

They had been working on him for an hour when Maggie showed up.

"Where is he?

"Back there. They won't let anyone in."

"He's going to die, isn't he?" She begins to sob.

"Listen, you have to get yourself together. Now is not the time. Neal needs you. The doctors are doing everything they can, they need you to sign these papers."

"Okay, she snivels as snot runs down her nose. She has on a sleeveless dress and shivers against the antiseptic cold of the ER. Ellen offers her jacket, her hand shakes as she signs the informed consent. Ellen isn't sure if it's out of fear for the small boy fighting for his life or the drugs leaving her body. Life is messy, it can be cruel, and we do the best we can. But Neal was four and he deserved so much better than this. She couldn't be an accomplice to Maggie's life anymore.

She can't take care of him. She can't even make sure he gets his medicine. "As soon as Neal is better," she thinks. But then what, she has no standing. Damn James Bennett, Damn him to hell. How could he have done this to his family, to her.

It's been hours since they took Neal in. Maggie sits dozing in the chair next to her.

"Mrs. Bennett, Mrs Bennett, the nurse called as she emerged from the back. Are you here with Neal Bennett?"

Ellen felt like her gut was punched.

Maggie what have you done. You know we can never use those names again. In a drug induced haze, she had given the men who would stop at nothing to kill a road map straight to them. Her investigation uncovered the corruption extended all the way to the top of the government, the FBI itself. Now they had the means to track them.

"We have his fever down and he seems to be responding to the new antibiotics. He should make a full recovery. But we'll need to keep him for the next few days. Anytime a child has a brain event, we need to monitor closely," his doctor looked relieved.

"Can we see him?"

"Sure. I'll have the nurse take you back. He's a tough little guy, but he's been through a lot. He needs to rest."

"Maggie you go ahead. I need to make a phone call. I'll be there shortly." She had to call the Marshals.

Maggie sat down on a stool next to her son's bed. He seemed smaller to her. It shouldn't be hard to take care of him. She bent her head to her knees and started crying again. It took all the energy she had.

The marshals came and moved Neal to another area of the hospital. They placed guards at the exits. As soon as the doctors cleared him, they would move again. Ellen stayed with him that night and most of the day, leaving only to gather up some of their things.

It was day three and Neal was recovering nicely, although sometimes he would cry when people came into the room, remembering needles, scary machines and the cold hands of strangers. He didn't want her to leave. She hated leaving him last night. Maggie was there and she promised no pills.

"Hey baby. Dr. Hill says you can go home tomorrow."

"Yay. Can we go to the zoo? You promised."

"I know baby, but we have to move."

"Why? he asked.

"We will go to the zoo when we get to our new place." He knew it wasn't true.

"Be a good boy for mommy now. Aunt Ellen is going to come live with us and help."

He wants to make her happy, but nothing is working. If he thinks about it too long, it makes his head hurt the way it did when he was sick. Is it his fault his father is dead and his mother cries all the time. He tried not to believe it, but it was hard. Sometimes he just pretends everything is okay.

His breathing is deep and even as she watches him. He opened his eyes and looked directly at her, smiled and closed them again. "Are you sure you can do this?" Her heart had been pounding as she gathered their belongings, her own life as thrown about as the bundles of clothes she packed in card board boxes earlier. Yet somehow there was an unidentifiable calm of purpose growing in her like an oak, as she watched over Neal.

When he wakes up Ellen is holding his hand.

"Is mommy coming back?

"Of course, sweetie."

"Are you gonna leave?

"You can't get rid of me. We're stuck like glue," she reached over and tickled his tummy until he laughed so hard his face turned red.

"Stop it Ellen, he squealed with delight.

"You two are having way too much fun, the nurse entered with Neal's last dose of antibiotics, an awful red syrupy concoction. Sorry buddy, but down the hatch. Now get some rest," she smiled knowingly at the two of them.

The power of suggestion causes Neal to immediately feel sleepy "I saw my daddy," he says to Ellen. This never gets any easier she thinks. She can not stand the fact she has to lie to him.

"I know you miss your daddy. I miss him too. Our minds play tricks on us sometimes when we miss someone. We want to see them so much, we think we do. Your daddy's not coming back."

"I did see daddy. He was talking to a man."

"Your tired baby, go to sleep now."

"His name was Vest," the little boy yawned.

"What did you say Neal?" she tried to control the fear in her voice.

"He called him Vest."

A shiver went down her spine. Vest was the nickname of a small time criminal with aspirations to the big show. She and James busted him on racketeering charges. Facing considerable jail time for a money laundering scheme, he turned states evidence against his former associates... the Flynn organization. Part of his deal, to work undercover as a confidential informant. To throw off suspicion and provide cover, he was assigned to OPR. If she was ever more afraid she couldn't remember.

She stroked Neal's hair and whispered.

"It was just a dream sweetheart."

In the morning Neal won't remember his dream or what he had seen.

**To be continued. **

**Thanks everyone for the great reviews and encouragement with this story. For those of you I couldn't contact personally, much appreciation.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Of Course, Mrs. Ellington**

**Chapter 3**

Pushing his hair back, she used a washcloth to wipe his perspiring face. He grimaced slightly. The pain was back.

"Relax now," she whispered.

This shouldn't be. The treachery that drew him here was beyond her imagination. Mozzie was down the hall shivering in the bathroom, no more to be done here. Elizabeth slipped out to find Peter.

The sounds of carts being pushed along the halls broke the quiet of the sleeping hospital. Machines meant to support life hummed in unison unaware anything was wrong. The nurse came in and adjusted the IV tubing. She said Mr. Caffrey's doctor would be in shortly to speak to the family.

Agent Berrigan stood at the door, all her frustration present. "How's he doing?"

"The same, I'm afraid. Dr. Kaplan will be here shortly. Would you let Peter and the others know. Thank you."

They gathered in the small waiting room. No one spoke. Peter stood, despite Elizabeth's urging him to stay by her side. He couldn't shake the fleeting image of his friend dying at his feet, the panic to restart his heart. Filled with the details of everything that had gone wrong, earlier he got lost in the maze of corridors beyond the ICU. He made himself take deep breaths as Dr. Kaplan walked in.

"Hi folks, I know it's been a long day. So let me get right to it. He's stable but still critical. The good news is with the FBI's labs we isolated the poison, a highly refined derivative of Ricin. Fortunately for Neal, after 911 this hospital was designated a CDC emergency response treatment center. An aggressive protocol allowed us to remove the majority of the toxin from his blood stream."

"And the bad news?" Peter asked.

"His organs were severely compromised. Now we have to support those vital functions, until his body can take over on its own. The next 36 to 72 hours are key. If he survives the night, the chances for a full recovery are good. Tonight Neal literally is in the fight of his life. It's all up to him now."

The door to the waiting room closed. No one moved. A machine beeped in the distance as the night shift took the desk. Visiting hours will be over in 15 minutes, the announcement came over the PA system. Elizabeth laid her hand on Mozzie's knee, he couldn't keep it still. "Neal's strong. If anyone can beat this thing it's him." Her reassurance hung in the air.

"There's no reason why we all should stay. Why don't the rest of you go home. I'll stay with Neal," Peter offered.

"Boss, Jones thinks he might have a lead on the lab that manufactured the Ricin. I'm going back to the office to help. If anything..."

"I'll call you. Thanks, Diana."

"Honey, you're exhausted. Are you sure? We can stay with Neal," she nodded toward the small man on the couch.

"Yeah, I"m sure, he pushed his hand through his hair. He kissed her softly, then looked at Mozzie. Take care of the little guy, I promise as soon as I hear anything, I'll call you."

"June, can I have someone take you home?"

"I'm not going home. Sit with me Peter," she motioned for him to join her on the small couch.

"I know things have been complicated between you two, but I have no doubt you love Neal. But what Neal needs now can't be complicated."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"Do you believe Neal trusts you?"

"For the most part, yes."

"And do you trust him?

"For the most part, yes. I see where you are going with this. It's complicated, yes. But I believe he's making progress and so am I."

"Beyond the fact you're an agent of the law and Neal's a con man, do you ever ask yourself

why he goes behind your back, bends the rules, keeps things from you?"

"I could give a master class. Of course, I think about it. You think I don't want to trust him, it's not easy. You more than anyone should know that." Frustrated and scared, he immediately regretted bringing June's husband into it.

"Life is difficult for people like us," she seemed unfazed by his outburst.

He looked into her eyes and only saw compassion, he was looking into himself as well.

"June, Neal told me the heart of our problem is I don't trust him."

"He was wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"It's not that you don't trust him, it's that he t**rusts **you. That's the heart of his problem and yours. Neal grew up with a father taken from him physically and a mother taken emotionally. The people supposed to protect him, didn't."

"Yeah, I gathered from Ellen that his mom was really non functional after his father was convicted."

"Imagine a young child not only having to fend for himself, but having to rely on someone that at any moment was completely unreliable. His trust betrayed at every turn, forced to cover up her messes, support her lies."

"I can't imagine." But he could and it twisted his heart.

"He had to lie to have any chance at a life. You lie to your teachers when you're late for school, you lie to your friends when you don't show up for the game, you lie to your self that everything is okay. Lies become the currency of survival."

Peter thinks of all those times when the truth intersected with misdirections, partial truths and deflections.

"When he feels he's failed or he can't rely on you ...it's like being that scared little boy all over again. The little boy who has to clean up all his messes alone, who has to lie and hide. But among the lies were a few true things. Neal never gave up on people, never gave up on trying."

Peter took a breath as tears burned his eyes. "If he would only let me help him."

"He will," she placed her hand on his as the tears he was holding fell. Even a tree with the deepest roots takes time to bear fruit. This is the long game. The path to the truth sometimes is important as the truth itself."

Torn between his desire to protect him and the fear he might place him at risk, his natural confidence was shaken.

"What do I do?"

"Tonight Neal needs every ounce of strength concentrated on himself. No guilt, no worry, no pretending to be okay or fear of being anything but who he is. Someone deserving to be protected, cared for and loved just as he is. Go home Peter. Rest. Then find the people who did this to our Neal."

**wcwcwcwc**

Seven years ago she kept watch of another kind. Fate could be cruel. She walked these halls, sat in these chairs, waited on good news that never came, desperate for a cure that was not to be. With nothing left to be done, she took Byron home.

"Mrs. Ellington? The voice shook her out of her reverie, she blinked and refocused to see a familiar face.

"Susan. Oh my, Susan Lewis. It's so good to see you again."

The women embraced, old friends. In her plain white nurse's uniform, she was still as pretty as when they first met. Fresh out of training she had an uncanny ability to inspire hope, far beyond her years. June looked forward to her shifts. Back then, Susan often sat with her when all the fanfare quieted down, all the medicines administered, dressings changed and machines re calibrated.

"Are you here for someone?" she asked her.

"Yes. Neal Caffrey."

"The young man in 1A. We just rounded on him. Ricin poisoning," her expression was tender.

"Can you tell me anything?"

"Well with HIPPA, we really can't.. she saw the submerged fear in the older woman's face much like she had all those years ago. Since your family."

June squeezed her hand.

"His vitals are fairly stable, we're monitoring his blood pressure carefully. The concern is for his kidneys shutting down."

"Can I see him?"

"Give them a minute, there finishing up the blood work. I think we have something for you though. They walked the few feet to the nurse's desk. These came on the 3 to 11 shift. They have your name on it." She offered the large bouquet of yellow roses to her. "These were your husband's favorites if I remember."

"Yes, they were," she smiled sadly.

"There's s a card. Would you like it?"

"Thank you Susan, Can I bring them in with me?"

"Of course, Mrs. Ellington."

The room was quiet. She listened to his breathing and took his hand. This is where she belonged tonight.

"Neal, if you can hear me sweetheart, you have to fight this. We're all here for you."

She settled down next to him and talked like that most of the night. She told him he would fall in love again, have children, grow to be an old man and die in his bed surrounded by family. This wasn't his time.

"How's he doing?" Susan came in.

"He's been restless the past half hour." She laid her hand on his forehead, it was slick with sweat.

"Ricin affects the nervous system. One of the side effects is agitation, hallucinations. Let me take a look."

"Do you think he's in pain?"

"His pulse is up. I'm going to turn him. Sometimes just repositioning someone can help."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Just hold that tubing away."

As Susan moved Neal on his side, his eyes opened and he looked directly at June.

"Mom."

"Yes baby,"she said instinctively.

"It hurts."

The innocence and the pain of his response made her heart ache. Susan immediately opened the small bag hanging on the IV poll, allowing the powerful analgesic drug to flow into his veins.

"I know sweetheart. I'm gonna make it go away. I'm gonna take care of you." June whispered to him.

The effect of the drug was immediate, his breathing evened and his eyes closed.

"Why would anyone do this?" Susan asked. She walked over and squeezed June's shoulder. You should get some rest. I'll be back soon."

A small shaft of light from the corridor lingered on the roses next to the bed. Her eyes trailed over the magnificent blooms, memories flooded her of another place and another time. She closed her eyes.

Byron was beautiful and reckless. He liked fast things, she liked being still. Everyone warned her off him. She was the careful one, he lived on the edges, the margins of life. He was a con man, plain and simple.

She felt nothing at first other than a passing interest. In her world you don't fall in love with a boy from the wrong side of the tracks, on the wrong side of the law.

"What are you doing tonight? I got a table at Rao's. Come with me."

"I hardly know you." she said. But she wanted to, she had time for her life to be predictable.

"Why should I go out with you?"

"Because I can make you happy."

Two hours later they were seated at a table in the small restaurant. Rao's was a family restaurant in East Harlem. A place where respect was important, even more so with the mobsters who were frequent guests. Not just anyone got a table there. Byron obviously had friends, friends who felt better with a gun on them.

He was the best dressed guy in the room, impeccable suit, sparkling cuff links, pocket spot. He moved with a grace and ease that was intoxicating. No one could take their eyes off him and he never took his eyes off her.

"How can I trust you? You lie for a living."

"I'll never lie to you. You're going to marry me one day."

As improbable a proposition as she ever heard, but in her heart she knew it was true. So much of her life was spent in the remote places of her mind, she never expected anyone would discover them, certainly not him. It was frightening and exhilarating all at once.

"Byron, so this is the future Mrs. Ellington you've been going on about. You're one lucky guy."

"We make our luck," he smiled. He always bet on him.

'For you lovely lady, compliments of the house." Mr. Disomone offered her a long stem yellow rose, obviously part of a plan Byron instigated. He loved yellow roses.

Tony Disomone was an ex neighborhood guy. Rumor was, he headed up a crew for the Luccheses and he owed Byron a debt. The Luccheses always took care of their own. It was the beginning of a long friendship.

Neal stirred lightly and her attention was drawn back to the present. She fingered the card that came with the roses.

_Dear June,_

_It's been a long time. Anything, anything at all._

**Wcwcwcwc**

"Diana," Peter breathed quickly as he cradled the phone to his ear.

"Boss, we got confirmation on the lab. She drew in a breath. It came out of Quantico. The Ricin came out of Quantico."

**To be continued**

**Much thanks to all of you, for such kind comments and taking the time to review. Hope to be quicker with the next chapter.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Of Course, Mrs. Ellington**

**Chapter 4**

"What do we have?" Peter nodded without a smile.

"The lab isolated the Ricin to the coffee Neal ingested. Investigation of the coffee bar found nothing, no evidence of contamination. Which means the coffee had to be dosed either en route or here." Jones placed the file on the meeting room table.

"Boss, Neal was on administrative leave. No one knew he was coming into the office, not even you. The half-life of Ricin in the average heated beverage is no more than three to four hours. Which means.."

"Whoever poisoned Neal was already here when he arrived and had access to Ricin."

"This was a highly coordinated plan, to be sure," Jones looked at Peter. "To be able to access the toxin, transport and deliver it required not only high level security access and resources but opportunity."

"Last night we ran the security clearance on everyone on the floor liked you asked. Only two people present had that level of security, both on the organized crime team. Who issued those clearances was blocked. The request red flagged and we couldn't get in beyond that."

Diana moved in her chair and looked at Peter with a question in her face she already knew the answer to.

"There might be a way, but it's risky...really risky. I have friends in NSA that could back door in. I could call in a favor, do you..?"

"Do it."

"Peter, you know what this means."

They looked at each other for the best of twenty seconds. There was no going back now. Peter stood and walked over to the bank of windows behind the desk.

"We're supposed to be the good guys, Di."

As she moved toward the door she turned and spoke softly, her voice filled with care. "Have you heard any more about Neal?"

"June says they're waiting for Dr. Kaplan. He's still unconscious."

"I'm sorry. If anyone can come back from this, it's Caffrey." She lingered in the corridor, then closed the door behind her.

**wcwcwcwc**

"How's Neal?"

"He's been sleeping peacefully the last few hours. The additional pain medication helped him, thank you. Isn't your shift over?"

"Yeah we finished morning report twenty minutes ago. Dr. Kaplan is going over Neal's results for rounds and should be in shortly. Thought you might enjoy some company." Susan handed June a fresh cup of coffee. There was sweet purpose in joining forces with June to watch over her friend.

Dr. Kaplan entered with at least half a dozen young women and men in white coats. Apparently, Neal was somewhat of a celebrity. Their first case of Ricin poisoning to survive and to undergo the CDC protocol.

"His serum electrolytes are returning to normal limits, renal functioning is improving, liver enzymes are still high. What should we be looking for at this point?" he asked to no one in particular.

"Hepatic necrosis is always a concern in these cases. Toxalbumins should give us an indicator if that's something to be concerned with at this point," said one eager young woman. Also mental status, is a benchmark of improvement after the 24 hour point. Persistent signs of confusion and disorientation indicate a poorer prognosis, on average."

"Good points, doctor. Let's get a tox screen, and let's see if we can wake Mr. Caffrey. Neal, I'm Dr. Kaplan. Squeeze my fingers, if you can hear me."

_Someone was scraping at the edges of his consciousness. Consciousness was slippery. New construction inside old construction. A second of nothing, then desperately holding on. Either it was riding up or sliding down. Like a fairground roller coaster out of control. He wanted to stop it. For relief. He wasn't sure if he was succeeding. He lost control of time when the pain came back. It was like a knife wound, taking his breath away. He half expected his body to stop breathing again just thinking of it. _

_He surfaced briefly during the night and she was there holding his hand. Mom. Beautiful, the way he always remembered her. She said she would make it stop and she did. Could someone make time stand still?_

_He felt loved. Mom had loved him. He didn't want to leave that feeling behind, but he wasn't okay. She wanted him to squeeze her fingers. She was right there, but so far away. He tried to reach for her anyway._

After several minutes of unsuccessful attempts to rouse his unresponsive patient, Dr. Kaplan turned to the two women watching on, filled with a desperate hope.

"Have them page me the moment he wakes up."

**Wcwcwcwcw**

Diana came back thirty minutes later with a manilla envelope.

"You have it?"

"Boss...Peter," she nodded and swallowed hard. Her hand shook slightly as she held the file.

"It's okay Diana," he took the envelope from her. Inside was one name only, the assistant deputy director of the Office for Professional Responsibility. Nothing happened for a minute, then everything changed.

"What do we do now?" she asked him. Before he could reply Hughes entered the quiet conference room.

"Peter, a word," he motioned Diana toward the door. She wanted to stay, he needed a friend.

"I just received word that inspector Matthews from OPR is on his way over. Apparently you initiated an unauthorized investigation into the security clearance of another agency."

"OPR, that's rich. It never sat right with me, Kate, Fowler, Operation Mentor."

"What are you talking about?"

"This," he slid the manilla envelope across the desk.

"OPR approved the security clearance giving Organized Crime access to Quantico labs. The time line we constructed shows that Neal was poisoned by someone in this office. No one else had access or motive."

"What are you saying?" Hughes huffed.

"They are in this together. The corruption, money laundering went all the way to the top. We know the Flynn's had someone in organized crime on the inside. But someone higher up the food chain provided cover. When Neal contacted Ellen all the dominoes began falling.. leading straight to their involvement."

"So what, you think they've been monitoring him this whole time."

"They have oversight of Organized Crime, the Marshals and us."

"Go on."

"The money laundering scheme figured to bring in millions. What better protection for the operatives in organized crime than to have OPR in their pocket. The agency that polices the agency. It fits, keep your friends close and your enemies even... With James Bennett out of the picture, the only one with any connection to the case is Neal. They're cleaning up."

"If this is true that OPR is involved, and that's a big if. I'm not going to be able to protect you, if you go ahead with this investigation."

"You should be worrying about protecting who did this. Because I swear to God, if Neal dies there's no where they can hide." Excess adrenaline was burning through him.

"Be careful, Peter," Hughes eyes narrowed.

"I've been careful. Careful to play by the rules, I demanded Neal play by the rules, because that's the right way, that's who we are. They came into our house, Reese. God! They poisoned him right here." He was trembling.

Reese moved toward Peter and put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed briefly.

"Peter listen to me."

"No, you listen. I'm going to find who did this. With your help or without it. With the Bureau or without it. If you want my job, take it. I owe it to him."

"Where are you going?"

"To my meeting."

Moments later in a hastily arranged meeting a team from OPR headed up by inspector Matthews joined the organized crime unit, Hughes, Jones, Berrigan and Peter. Matthews was a man in his late fifties maybe 60, retirement age for someone who'd made it a career. His hair was short and neatly brushed, well dressed, tan and rugged not the prototypical agent. He nodded, looked over the group for a long moment and then directly at Peter.

"I'm agent Matthews. How's your man Caffrey?"

"I know who you are and why you're here. Cut to the chase." Peter said flatly.

The room went quiet.

"Okay, then. You ran an unauthorized security clearance from this office. A clear violation of Bureau policy."

Peter nodded.

"We need an explanation and it better be a damn good one. You got five minutes."

"I can give you one. Someone in this room is responsible for poisoning my partner."

The room went quieter still.

**To be continued**


	5. Chapter 5

**Of course, Mrs. Ellington **

**Chapter 5**

The room was suddenly smaller. No air in it. The accusation sinking in just a little more. No one moved.

"And you know this how?" Matthews asked. He was composed, communicating nothing.

Peter put the file on the table, slid it across the glass desk in his direction.

Matthews took a sheet from the file. It had three names on it. One of them was his.

"Agent Burke, you seem like a smart man. I want you to think very carefully before you make your next statement. How did you come to be in possession of this document?"

"Can't say."

Matthews leaned forward, turned his head in almost a mechanical fashion and looked directly at Hughes.

"This meeting is over. Everyone out but you inspector."

They filed out in silence. Peter went to his office as Jones and Berrigan lingered outside forming a protective phalanx around their boss and friend. Exiled to his office, he let out the breath he was holding. His mind running through all the possibilities, testing them against the few facts he had available. Now the ball was squarely in Matthew's court.

Three men in mid priced suits arrived almost immediately, asking for all communications logged in the past 24 hours. Diana asked Jones to run interference as she took an incoming call. The information streaming across her cell might be the game changer they needed. She hurriedly made her way back to the bullpen.

"Do you think he's okay?" Jones asked looking into Peter's office.

"No. I don't think he's okay. But he might get there after he sees this."

She waited in the corridor for a moment, then entered Peter's office. Closed the door behind her and locked it. She recognized the look in his eyes...tactical, when he was reorganizing around a setback.

"Boss this just came in. I though you'd want to see it before Matthew's guys find it out." She handed him the cell. "Danny Flynn Jr. was found murdered, execution style just over an hour ago."

"Who sent this?"

"It's better you don't know, but there's more. Several known associates of the Flynn organization were also found murdered in separate locations. Among them Timmy, the Vest, Malone in Boca Raton. He was a former CI in the Washington Bureau."

"Does anyone else here know about it?"

"No."

"OK, lets keep it that way for now."

Their meeting was cut short as a visibly agitated Hughes knocked on the locked door.

"Peter, I need to see you in my office. Now!"

"You want to tell me what the hell just happened in there."

"Listen to me. I just got a report. Danny Flynn Jr. was found dead earlier today, executed. Three other known associates also killed. I was right. Reese, they are cleaning house."

"You better be right. Matthews is bringing in Deputy Director Bancroft. And as of now, you are no longer on this case pending a full investigation into your actions by OPR."

**Wcwcwcwc **

She moved an errant lock of hair from his face, half expecting those baby blues to open. He seemed so young. She hummed softly to him. Susan said stimulation was important to Neal now, it would help him wake up. Near the end, she sang to Byron every day. He always believed in second chances, but some chances you lose.

It was hard to keep her wits about her when he was near. She always felt a little drunk. Lord, she loved him. More than she should, more than he let her. She wanted to stay as close to him as possible and to watch him. As terrible as his dying was, a lovely peace settled in.

"Do you remember our first date?" she was sitting by his bedside. The doctors told her it would be anytime now.

"Of course. Rao's. You had the shrimp vodka, I had the chicken."

Sometimes his mind was clear and sharp as a tack. This was one of those times. It was a good day. He wasn't feeling the pain as much anymore, he didn't labor to breathe. It didn't hurt her to watch him. He squinted at the roses, he knew they meant something.

"And you had Tony bring over that yellow rose."

"It made an impression," he smiled...he remembered.

"It certainly did," she laid her hand on his shoulder.

That night outside the restaurant, he kissed her before she could equivocate. She wanted something to hold onto. She had to keep her heart in check, but she couldn't. She was falling hard.

"You know about me, who I am."

"Yes," she whispered.

"Tell me."

"You're a con man."

"We're meant to be together. You feel it too, and that's no lie. We can take it easy or go for broke, but I promise you this. I'll never lie to you."

Maybe she had gone crazy, fallen under a spell. Why did she think he was telling her the truth? Isn't this what con men do, convince you of their lies? Maybe there was a string of girls with yellow roses he'd made promises to. How could she prove he was telling the truth? She couldn't. But in that moment she wanted to take the risk. And through everything, in all their life together the one true thing between them, he never lied to her.

She kept faith in him and he kept his promise. This was love.

"I'm tired baby," his breath was shallow. "I'm going to rest now."

Death wasn't unexpected. It was coming for him with a swift and sure cruelty. _You are not taking_ _him _she wanted to scream. _I'm not letting him go. I'm going to keep him safe,_ but she couldn't. She had to let him go.

"June?" Neal whispered.

His eyes were open and he was looking into hers. He was awake. He hadn't let go.

**wcwcwcwcwc**

"So what did Hughes say?"

"I'm off the case."

"OK, so suppose I work the murders off the book and keep you in the loop. We have intelligence on Flynn from the Greenspoint incident. Ruiz will be happy for the help, as long as he can take the credit."

"Look Diana, I have no right to ask for your help. I should never have involved you in this."

"You forget. I volunteered."

She squared her shoulders. She knew she was doing the right thing. He needed her help and it was simple as that. Before Peter could protest, a call came into his phone.

"Mozzie. This had better be important."

"It's about Neal suit, meet me at Thursday."

Peter appeared at the door to Thursday within half an hour. The expression on Mozzie's face heightened his anxiety.

"Tell me what you know."

"I got a call from a former associate in Detroit, who shall remain unidentified if you get my drift."

"Mozzie, I don't have time for..."

"You want to know about the corruption, top of the FBI?"

"How do you know about that?"

"This was delivered to me, over an hour ago."

"By who?"

"I wasn't exactly checking ID's. They said it would help a friend. They mentioned Neal by name. And now you know what I know."

They both stared at the brown envelope sitting on the table.

"Whatever is in here is going to change everything suit. These guys who gave us this, aren't exactly in the business of helping out the Feds. Leverage is like mother's milk to them. Loyalty is everything. Imagine Navy Seals and multiply times 100. Which means as much as they want this, they want you to have it more."

"So why give this up now?"

"Someone's calling in a marker."

Peter opened the envelope. He was focused so intently on the contents that, until Mozzie gave an uncomfortable cough, did he realize he had stopped breathing. He banged his fist on the table.

"Suit, the men who are behind this tried to kill Neal. Be careful."

As he returned to the Federal Building, details turned over and over in his head. Everything fit. He fished his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the Marshals.

He entered the conference room unannounced and uninvited, flanked by the Marshals. The agents gathered there visibly started. Hughes was clearly unhappy.

"Deputy Director Bancroft, Inspector Matthews," he acknowledged the lead agents.

"Have you thought of something to tell us?" Matthews asked, unable to get a read on Burke. There was something in his expression that wasn't there before.

"Yes, I have. Not only are the men responsible for poisoning my partner in this room. They are the same men who have been behind a thirty year cover up of the death of a Washington DC policeman, the deaths of two federal witnesses and a multimillion dollar extortion scheme."

"Interesting speculation, Agent Burke. But do you have any facts to support this fantasy your spinning." Matthews was obviously shaken as he struggled to support control of a situation rapidly shifting from under him.

Peter lifted the brown envelope's flap and slid two photographs out. The first was a long lens shot, a little grainy, but a viable photograph nonetheless. It showed a much younger Matthews when he was just getting started at Organized Crime receiving a suitcase from Danny Flynn Sr, with Timmy Vest looking on. The second photograph was a closer shot, same men but in the background was another man, helping to count what seemed like a large amount of cash. The then young and rising star of the Office for Professional Responsibility...Deputy Director Bancroft.

Hughes sat back in his seat.

"Once in a great while there is a difference between the law and justice. Sometimes justice has to step outside the law, Peter said calmly. It's taken thirty years, but today justice has been served."

The Marshals moved in and began reading the suspects their rights.

**wcwcwcwwc**

He wasn't afraid of death. He was afraid of going back and disappointing the people who had faith in him. Could he stay on the path he'd chosen? Could he? Could he hold onto himself and let the other things go? She said it wasn't his time. She said hold on.

"Neal, honey can you hear me?"

He was visible. He saw relief in her face. He recalled the first time he met her at the thrift store. She spotted him when he thought he was being invisible. It scared him the first time she did it. He had become so practiced at hiding in plain sight. And when she saw right through the con, it took his breath away. It almost broke his heart, he had been so alone for so long.

"June?"

"I'm right here."

"What happened to me?

"You were poisoned."

"Was it bad?"

"Bad enough," she smiled.

"Where's Peter?"

"He's on his way over here now. He found the men who did this to you. The men who set up your father. Everything is going to be fine now. I'm going to get your doctor."

"June, how is he? I came as soon as I could."

"Dr. Kaplan is finishing up with him now. He says his prognosis for a full recovery is excellent."

"Thank God."

"He's been asking for you. Why don't you go in. I'm sure the doctor won't mind."

Dr. Kaplan finished typing his notes. He looked up at Peter and smiled. He said Neal was recovering nicely and tomorrow he would be moved out of ICU. He told Neal what had happened to him was traumatic and if he wanted to talk to someone, he could call in a psychologist. Neal didn't protest.

"How are you buddy?" Peter sat down next to his bed.

"A little sore."

"You gave us a real scare," the adrenaline had finally burned through him. The magnitude of what might have happened crashed down on him. He struggled for control.

"I was afraid we were going to lose you."

"Why? You always find me," Neal's mouth curved in amusement.

"That's four for four. Not that anyone's keeping score."

"Don't make me laugh. It still hurts."

"Then lets talk about sad things. Mozzie's closing Thursday. Says it's been hopelessly tainted..."

The food carts were coming down the halls. It was time for the new shift, the noise and motion of the hospital was in full swing. She watched as the two men talked, partners, friends.

"Sorry to interrupt boys. But this old body needs to rest. Neal, you're in good hands. I'm going to go home, and I promised Mozzie I would help store some things for him."

She smiled down at him and kissed his forehead.

"Good night Neal."

"June, thank you so much for taking care of me," he reluctantly let her hand go.

When she reached the hospital exit, there was a black limousine waiting, the engine running. Sitting in the front seat was a man in his early fifties. Lean and dark, the expression in his eyes sharklike. He was a dapper dresser, not flashy. He stepped out and opened the door.

"Mrs. Ellington."

"Thank you," she stepped into the back.

"Mr. Disomone sends his regrets, he could not be here in person. He asked me to give you this." He reached a long stem yellow rose to her.

"The matter with the Flynn Organization has been taken care of?" she asked.

"Yes, as you requested."

"And the FBI?"

"Done. I don't think your friend has anything more to worry about."

She held the yellow rose as tears filled her eyes. Neal was safe. She had kept him safe.

"Would you take me home please?"

"Of course, Mrs. Ellington."

**The End.**

**Author's notes:** Thank you so very much to all of you have stayed with my story. Those of you who have reviewed with words of encouragement and advice, and those who added it your alerts, follows and favorites. It so helps to hear from you, as I work to become a better writer.

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